It wuz indeed thrillin', but after a minute's silence she went on: "Look at me!" sez she, pintin' that same forefinger first at herself and then at the tall veiled figger of the young girl beside her--"Look at us; we, the people, represent to you another of your favorite reforms, the Canteen, that product of civilization and Christianity you transplanted from our holy shores to the benighted tropics. How many petitions have you had wet with the tears of wives and mothers, weighted down with their prayers to close this gateway to hell. But no, for a price, as Judas sold his Lord, you have trafficked in human souls and will do so. And you are the power--you control; we are the people--we suffer. We leave all we love, we go out and fight your battles when you tell us to, we face mutilation and death for you--isn't that enough? No; besides the foe in front you set us aginst, you introduce a foe into our midst that is a million times as fatal and remorseless. The foe in front only aims at our bodies; this foe, before it kills our bodies, kills honor, manhood, all that is noble and worthy to be loved--a devilish foe indeed, but by your command it is let loose upon us; we are the people, we must endure it. Look at me!"--agin she pinted that bony forefinger at herself--"I had a husband I loved as well as the gracious lady in the White House loves her husband. He wuz a good man. He thought he owed a duty to his country. He went to fight her battles at her call. He might have escaped Spanish bullets, but not this foe this Christian govermunt set aginst him. In a low Canteen, a vile drinking den, rented by you for the overthrow of men's souls and bodies, in a drunken brawl a bullet aimed by a crazed brain for another poor ruined boy reached my husband's faithful heart, faithful to the country that slew him, not for patriotism or honor, but for a few pennies of money--not even the thirty pieces of silver Judas earnt for betraying his Lord. This bullet wuz sent from the hand of a young man, a college graduate, one of the noblest, brightest and best of men until this foe our govermunt set for him vanquished him. He got into a quarrel with another drunken youth, another victim of the Canteen, and meant to shoot him, but the unsteady hand sent it into the heart of my husband, who went into that vile place thinkin' he could appease the quarrel. This young man was shot for _your_ crime and here is his widow," and turning to Waitstill, she said, "Lift up your vail; let them look upon us, the people." The young girl drew back her vail and a face of almost perfect beauty wuz disclosed, but white as death. The big dark eyes wuz full of sorrow and despair, sadder than tears. She simply said: "I loved him--he was murdered--I have come to denounce his murderers." Her voice wuz low, but the words fell like drops of blood, so vivid, so full were they of the soul of her being.